


tickertape

by Mungo_of_Maundery



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Mental Institutions, Missing Scene, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Series, Stream of Consciousness, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25413433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mungo_of_Maundery/pseuds/Mungo_of_Maundery
Summary: Murdock and B.A. lost everything and had to rebuild their friendship from the ground up and that's why they're Like That. Murdock has mixed feelings about life in a V.A. hospital. B.A. has mixed feelings about Murdock. Being 'okay' is a nebulous concept for both of them and that, in itself, is okay.
Relationships: B. A. Baracus & H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	1. Between Dignity and Defiance

**Author's Note:**

> lord help me, i'm back on my bullshit

Murdock’s left eyebrow reminds him of the dirt track to his grandparents’ house, of the sunshine and the colours that lit up around him and of the warm, homely dust under his feet. His right eyebrow reminds him of their car, rattled out and battered and always in need of repair. The area under his right eye is the shop that was at the end of the road. It never seemed to sell anything worth buying, but he liked it there all the same, because there were bright things hanging from the ceiling and even when he grew taller he could never reach them even when he jumped, but he always knew that to get them he had only to ask.

It’s a long time since he’s been back there, but he can revisit every time he looks in a mirror and peers closely enough at himself. He’s learnt to carry home within.

Once, he was bothered by the inside of his room at the V.A. It used to seem very small to him, and sometimes it still does, but now he’s an expert at climbing drainpipes and lowering himself from windows, and that makes the place seem bigger. The others make it seem bigger, too. Things like telephone lines and the possibility of Face’s voice at his door or at his window promising him flight in every sense of the word, open up new vistas and potential to Murdock’s surroundings.

The people in the rooms around him come and go and some of them are friendly and some of them aren’t and some of them aren’t there long enough for Murdock to tell either way. Murdock is always there, except when he isn’t. Even the cracks in the ceiling know him now. Sometimes he thinks they must be tired of looking at him, so he keeps a roll of different posters under his bed and alternates them depending on his mood. Through ten years of (mostly) good behaviour he has earned the right to a telephone, to razors, to the freedom to clip his own toenails. He still flinches when people try to touch him. Touch with Face and Hannibal and B.A. and even Amy is like magnetism and warmth. Anyone else’s hands want to move him, to control him. He’s used to being pushed and prodded and restrained. He jerks his wrists out of reach and watches peoples’ faces, finding the balance between compliance and autonomy, between dignity and defiance. 

He paints stripes on his shoelaces and talks to the curtains. He’s working on being able to climb to the ceiling and stay there, hooking his fingers onto the metal framework. It doesn’t work mostly, because the metal rods bend, and the ceiling tiles are flimsy and powdery under his hands and sometimes they crack, and he comes crashing to the floor.

He is very good at being silent. If he wants to be heard, he will be.

For a long while, back in the beginning, nobody came to visit him. At the time, he barely noticed. The world had seemed very loud back then, and he couldn’t see past all the noise and the fear, and there wasn’t room in his head for visitors. He doesn’t think about that time much anymore. Things are different now, and they are better, and they are not perfect.

He doesn’t remember Hannibal’s first visit, but he knows it must have happened. There are a lot of things Murdock doesn’t remember, and even more things that he pretends to have forgotten. He remembers Face’s first visit, vaguely, through the mist of confusion those times lay on him. Face’s concerned eyes, the way he kept his distance for the first half of his visit and then abruptly came and sat so close that Murdock could feel the warmth of his body. He doesn’t remember what they said to each other, or whether they spoke at all.

Murdock doesn’t think B.A. ever visited him. Murdock has asked him why, pretending to be hurt to hide the fact that he really is, a little, but B.A. evades the question every time. He didn’t want to visit, why would he, stop asking, he’s busy, he doesn’t have time to stand around answering Murdock’s constant interrogation. But Murdock understands anyway. There is a deep anxiety in B.A.’s face sometimes that is barely masked by irritation.

Murdock stands at the window and twiddles the phone cord. He hasn’t heard from the others for a long time. Sometimes it feels like only Amy ever comes to see him. The number seems to dial itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know when i'll update this as i really have only the vaguest of vague ideas about where this is going. also i'm sorry B.A. didn't really make an appearance this time but have patience!! he will!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to have kept you all waiting so long for this! i hope it's worth it :'D tickertape in its raw form is at over 16k words and counting, so there's plenty more to come and hopefully i won't leave you all in the dark for so long this time!
> 
> also last chapter you had no BA and this chapter you have no Murdock. they... they will actually interact with each other later on i PROMISE you

“I’ve found him, I think. I’m pretty sure. But you’re not going to like it.”

“Please, Ray, just tell me if he’s alive.”

“He’s alive. Listen – ”

Hannibal’s hand presses against the glass wall of the phone booth and he listens to what Ray tells him, then closes his fist tightly around nothing but air. He wishes he had something to hold onto, wishes Face and B.A. weren’t standing on the other side of the glass watching him. He wishes Ray wouldn’t go into so much detail, but he wants to know everything.

He keeps his features neutral, even when his fingernails start to cut crescents into his palms. Face is right outside, B.A. a few paces behind him, sticking close to their vehicle in case they have to make a quick getaway. Both of them have wide eyes fixed on Hannibal. He can see them trying to guess what Ray is saying and he wishes they wouldn’t, because it makes it worse. If only they’d wait, not think about Murdock at all until he tells them, if only they wouldn’t _speculate_. But he can’t expect anything else from them. His men are smart; he’d be doing the same. He _has_ been doing the same, ever since they parted with Murdock back in ’72, since the last time he saw the pilot, his hair singed, and his mouth open in surprise and concentration in equal measure. He’d saluted Hannibal in his off-hand, snarky way. Then everything had gone to hell. Hannibal hasn’t had much time, since then, to wonder about Murdock, but in the quieter times, when he gets them, the pilot weighs heavy on his mind.

Often, in the moment, wondering if you’re doing the right thing is unhelpful. It’s only now that Hannibal affords himself a conscience. He has more than Murdock to feel guilty about, but with Ray’s words sour in his ears as he describes what little he knows of Murdock’s movements since the incident in Hanoi, of erratic behaviour and confusion and breakdown and medical discharge, the concept of leaving their pilot alone and friendless in a warzone is unthinkable.

Face taps on the glass tentatively, chewing his lip, and jerks his head towards the car. It’s dangerous for them to be all out here in the open like this, all together, but when Hannibal arranged to call Ray, Face and B.A. both wanted to be there. Just in case. In case Murdock was dead, Hannibal supposes. They hate being in suspense as much as Hannibal does.

“ – and that’s all I know, for now at least. I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t what you wanted to hear,” Ray finishes.

“That’s okay, Ray, I appreciate you taking the effort to contact me. I know we’ve not been the easiest men to find.”

“Neither has Howling – has Murdock, apparently. I can try and get a message to him, if you want?”

Hannibal doesn’t tell Ray that they’re in Los Angeles as they speak. He doesn’t exactly think the phone is bugged, and certainly knows Ray better than to think the major would rat them out. But the last few months have been hard on the mind, and paranoid or not, Hannibal doesn’t want to risk speaking the team’s whereabouts out loud, especially not near an electronic device.

“No,” he says. “I think we can get there quicker anyway.”

“Hannibal, where are you?” Ray says, and his bluff professionalism cracks just the tiniest bit. “I worry about you guys.”

“You know I can’t answer that,” says Hannibal sadly. “As much as I’d like to. It’s safer for us – and for you as well – that for now, you don’t know. We’ll get this sorted soon and then we’ll all come visit you, okay? And we’ll be hungry, so get cooking.”

Ray laughs, the static crumpling the sound over the phone. “You bet. Bring Murdock with you, too. Guy needs a break.”

Hannibal falters. “Yeah. Wouldn’t go anywhere without him.”

When the call ends, Hannibal puts the phone back on the receiver, his movements measured. He’s not at risk of giving his feelings away, but even so he pauses to gather himself before exiting the cubicle.

Concern about being spotted evaporated, Face and B.A. start to crowd at the door, both of them asking questions over the top of each other. “Okay, okay,” says Hannibal. “Let me out, at least.”

“Hannibal,” says B.A. He’s been more solemn than ever this past year, as if anything could make him more so than when they first met. “Is Murdock alive?”

“He’s alive,” says Hannibal. “Go get in the car, I’ll tell you when we get in safely.”

Right now, they’re staying in a bunker they built from sheet iron under a bridge. It’s horrible. Objectively, very nasty. It’s cramped and tiny and their beds are planks of wood. It’s just a box. It has no facilities, and for all that they try to keep it clean, it’s still one of the most basic structures Hannibal has ever lived in. Somehow, Face still always looks tidy, and B.A. finds time to listen to the football. They never stay in one place too long; this is pushing it for them at two weeks, but the most recent hotel they were at recognised them and Hannibal figured it was best they keep a low profile for a while.

He tells them some of what Ray told him about Murdock, but he keeps some things back, too, for Murdock’s dignity. Face stares at Hannibal the whole time as if he just grew an extra head. B.A. is less intense, but he grips the edge of his bed – his plank, on its breeze block supports – so hard Hannibal wonders it doesn’t splinter. When Hannibal finishes, B.A. is the first to speak.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asks.

Hannibal blinks. “The plan?”

“For getting him out. What’s the plan?”

“I don’t have a plan, B.A.”

B.A. is insistent, and getting angry now. “But we gotta get him out. Who knows what they’ll do to him in there?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “I’m satisfied that Murdock is safe enough where he is, for now. I don’t want to commit to anything until I’ve spoken to him personally.”

B.A. stands up quickly. “Well I _ain’t_ satisfied, Hannibal.” He towers over his still-seated commanding officer, but Hannibal is not easily cowed, least of all by B.A.

“Think about it, B.A.,” Hannibal reasons. “If he’s as sick as Ray says, what good do we do him by pulling him out on the run with us? He’s not going to come to any harm in the hospital.”

“How do you know?” Face chimes in, his first words for a while. “I mean – how do you know he’s safe where he is?”

B.A. nods in agreement.

“Look,” says Hannibal. “We don’t know what’s going on with Murdock. We do know that he’s been in the hospital for a while already. I’m not going to endanger him by removing him from a facility that protects him, or put him in a position that compromises his safety. Once we get him out, once word gets out that he’s with us, he’ll be a wanted man just as much as we are. Would you wish our current situation on him? Really?”

That makes Face fall silent, back to gnawing on his fingernails – a habit he seems to have picked up just in the last month or so. B.A. is less easily appeased.

“I won’t ditch him just ‘cause you say he’s crazy. Crazy man’s always been crazy, and it never did him no harm.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” says Hannibal. “I wish it were.”

B.A. kicks a breeze block, knocking the plank to the ground with a clatter. Hannibal winces in sympathy, but B.A. shows no sign of pain. He rounds on Hannibal again. “You ditched him in ‘Nam, and now you want to ditch him again. We’re getting him out, before somebody hurts him. You best think of a plan, fast.”

“B.A…” Face chides. “Let’s not make it personal.”

“It is personal. Don’t you suck up to him, Faceman.”

Hannibal is calm. B.A.’s storms are always the loudest and the most frequent, but the easiest to weather. He doesn’t respond to B.A.’s points. While quick to anger, B.A. cools almost as fast as Murdock does, and far faster than Face, who is difficult to enrage but holds onto his fury like a talisman, close to his chest.

Seeing that Hannibal will not be moved, B.A. walks out. There’s no door to slam – they couldn’t find anything to use for hinges – so he kicks the side of the doorframe as he goes, so that the whole structure shakes.

Well, that went well.


	3. The Midnight Marketing Committee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thermie u know what u did and i hope u like it

The phone rings for a long time, and Murdock watches the tree outside his window, its leaves fluttering silver in the moonlight. Finally, a sleepy voice answers, “Hello?”

Murdock affects an English accent. “Sincerest night-time greetings to Miss Triple A from Billibob’s Bakery, this is Billibob speaking on behalf of our Midnight Marketing committee.”

There’s a pause. “Murdock, is that you?”

“We would like to draw your attention to our new recipe for scones! Now with extra raisins!”

“… Murdock, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Look, if you don’t like raisins, my dear, just say so.”

“Is something up?”

Murdock is silent for so long that he thinks maybe she will hang up, so he casts about quickly and then blurts out, “Faceman has a tiny pee-pee!”

Amy splutters. “What?”

“It’s true, Amy, I’ve seen it.”

Amy is laughing now. Murdock grins. “You should write an article about it,” he tells her. “I can see the headlines now.”

She snorts. “I don’t think Face would be very happy with me.”

“I would be.”

“I know. Why did you actually call me?”

The abrupt change of subject catches Murdock off-guard and he has to stop the words, “I feel like everyone’s forgotten I’m here,” tripping out of his mouth. Instead, he mimics the sound of chewing tobacco and says, “Just wanted to hear ya voice, sweetheart.”

“Look, Murdock – ” he can hear her yawning. “ – I have an article to finish for midday tomorrow. I’ll come see you afterwards, deal?”

It’s a request, not a statement. She’s been turned away twice by the staff on days when Murdock couldn’t handle visitors, and now she always checks with him first.

“Good,” he says. He catches a bit of paint from the wall under his thumbnail and picks it off. “Bring pizza.”

“Huh?”

“Pizza. Bring pizza. The food here is garbage, it’s just garbage, Amy.”

She’s laughing again. “Okay, any specific requests?”

“Pizza,” he says firmly.

“Okay, okay. Pizza.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a leetle update today bc this chapter was originally supposed to be longer but it was annoying me so i'm posting it as two parts :)) hope u enjoyed pls comment it feeds my soul


	4. The Midday Marketing Committee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Murdock hang out.

When Amy sets off from the L.A. Courier office, there seems to be a slight chance of rain on the horizon, but it soon clears up, and by the time she parks in the visitors’ lot at the hospital, the sun is out and shining again. She signs in as a guest at reception and the lady at the desk doesn’t bother to give her directions to Murdock’s room – Amy has been here enough times now that she’s seen this receptionist before. Instead of going up through the hospital, Amy goes around the side of the building, between two wings and out into the garden area. She knows which window is Murdock’s.

Murdock’s bedroom window doesn’t open more than about six inches. That’s by design, but it doesn’t half make things difficult sometimes. When Amy passes under his window with her arms full of pizza, the grease leaking through the cardboard and staining her hands, all she can see of him is his forearm waving at her.

“Hi,” she says.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, will let down her hair,” Murdock calls down. “But _only_ if the handsome princess brings her a gift.”

“Would tuna pizza do?”

Murdock’s arm disappears and is replaced by the top half of his face, resting his nose on the windowsill. “That’s the magic word.”

“I can come up if it’d be easier,” Amy offers.

“Rapunzel will be down in person before you can say Santa Barbara,” Murdock assures her, rolling the _r_ , and then he’s gone.

“Santa Barbara,” Amy whispers, shaking her head.

About a minute later, Murdock appears in the doorway, glances around and spots her. Once he has her in his sights, he barrels towards her at a speed Amy might find alarming if she didn’t know him so well. As it is, she stands her ground as he rushes her, grabs her hand and whirls her around.

“Watch the pizza!” she laughs, and Murdock steadies, making sure he hasn’t knocked her off balance.

They wander about, trying to find somewhere they won’t have to share with anyone else. They’d both prefer it that way anyway, but if they want to talk about anything to do with the team and their missions, it’s a must.

“Hide me!” hisses Murdock, ducking behind Amy as best he can.

“Huh?”

Murdock points at a man wandering past them about ten metres away. “It’s Corporal Bennington. I don’t want him to see me.”

Amy raises her eyebrows. “Why not? Is there something wrong with him?”

“Ain’t there always!” says Murdock. “But no, he just shaves his feet and I don’t like it.”

“He shaves his – ” Amy can’t help but laugh.

“Don’t laugh! I’m deadly serious. It’s a terrible affliction and I think it might be contagious.”

“I’m sure. You think the hairy feet are contagious, or just the shaving part?”

Murdock frowns. “I don’t know. Never really thought about it.”

Corporal Bennington and his shaven feet safely avoided, they find a quiet spot sit down, Murdock eyeing anyone who comes near with a deep suspicion. They keep their voices low. Before Amy can get comfortable or clean any of the grease off her hands, Murdock is pawing at the box. “Alright, alright,” she says, and passes it to him while she finds a tissue. He’s into it immediately, eats like he hasn’t in weeks, and only slows down when she holds her hand out.

“Oh,” he says, and pushes the box back towards her. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she says, taking a slice. “I’m just keeping you company.”

He grins and pulls his feet up to join him on the bench so that he’s hunched over his knees.

“So, what’s been happening? What have you been up to today?”

Murdock stares at her like she’s lost it, for so long that she wonders if he remembers she’s there. Lightly, she taps the table in front of him, and he jumps and drops his pizza. She asks her question again.

“Nothing – ” he says, blankly, and she worries that she’s insulted him. The inflection returns to his voice again, however, as he adds, “I mean – what day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“Yeah. There’s not much happening round here on Wednesdays. You should be here on a Thursday, that’s when it’s really cooking.” He watches her for a reaction, then says. “I’m joking, nothing happens on Thursdays, either. Nothing to report. What about you?”

Amy shrugs. “Same old.”

“Your, uh – editor guy still getting you down?”

“The man’s a moron,” she says. “I just – ” She lays her hand flat on the table, trying to figure out how to express her frustration. “ – I’m tired of being side-lined, and threatened with suspension, and bullied. And it can’t be only me that feels this way. I’m just the only one that speaks out, and I’m worried it’ll cost me my job.”

Murdock hands her another slice of pizza. “He’s a piece of crap, Ames.”

“I know.”

“What would Hannibal do?”

“I don’t know, call him a slimeball and blow up his car, probably.”

"You got it. Or scuzzbucket, he might use that one."

They both crack up.

When they’ve recovered, Murdock seems suddenly interested in his pizza. “Have you, uh – have you heard from them recently?”

Amy shakes her head. “Not since we were all together last. Except, Face called me one time.”

“News?”

“Not anything noteworthy. What about you?”

“Oh, this and that.”

Amy guesses from this vagueness that they’ve not been in contact with Murdock, either. “I’m sure they’re fine,” she assures him.

“I’m not worried.”

They change the subject. They eat their pizza; they play cards; they plan a trip to the coast. Maybe the others can come with them, but maybe not. Their conversation is light and peppered with laughter, their quiet comfortably unfilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a lil smidge to tide u all over <3


End file.
